


Dreams From a Moutainside

by DevBasaa



Series: Moments In and Out of Time [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Captain America: The First Avenger, First Kiss, M/M, Missing Scene, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevBasaa/pseuds/DevBasaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene, set at the height of the Howling Commando’s campaign.  Bucky considers his options and Steve considers Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams From a Moutainside

**Author's Note:**

> So, given that this is a missing scene series, keep in mind that movie canon takes over whenever one of these fics ends. Just saying…

“Steve, are you sure on this direction?”

“Check it yourself.”

They were 8 miles outside of Lech, Austria and had been climbing for 3 hours on intel from SSR that Schmidt had hidden a HYDRA laboratory in the Alps. To Bucky, it seemed that they should have seen something by now, some evidence of travel. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Steve—trust Captain America—but, honestly, he simply was getting tired.

Bucky reached out and grabbed Steve’s compass as it came flying at his head. He clicked it open and squared his stance, his gaze focused on the slight swing of the needle as it settled towards north.

That was how he didn’t see it right away.

A picture. Peggy Carter. _Agent_ Peggy Carter. A roughly clipped copy of her face, trimmed and shoved into the lid of Steve’s compass.

Bucky felt his breath leave him so swiftly his shoulders slumped forward.

Right. He’d done it again.

In some strange, thoughtless way, he’d forgotten he wasn’t the center of Steve’s world anymore. Because now, dames could see Steve. The few they encountered fell out of their chairs to see Steve, even when liberating an enemy base.

Maybe it was the camaraderie of the battlefield that kept making Bucky forget. Or the way Steve always kept him in proximity, how he cleared every decision by Bucky. How they shared a tent and talked until near dawn (when it was safe to do so) and always seemed to find a reason to touch each other, a clap to the back or shoulder. 

Bucky had forgotten reality.

Again and again, he let himself be deluded by his dreams and fantasies, even after he’d vowed not to let them get in the way. But he couldn’t help himself. He’d daydream that one day he might tell Steve about his feelings, or that Steve would sort them out for himself. 

Neither of which had happened in nearly three years.

If Bucky had acted on his feelings back in Brooklyn—if he’d _realized_ his feelings back then—would he and Steve be different now? Would a brunette in a killer red dress still be able to step between them?

Yet another thing that Bucky simply chose not think about.

He snapped the cover closed on the compass and whistled. Steve turned. He always turned towards Bucky first. Bucky tossed him back the compass.

“Don’t know what I was thinking. You’re always right.”

Captain America caught the compass and smiled. “Not always.”

Bucky nodded and looked away. No, he probably was right. Agent Carter was a nice looking, intelligent dame with her head square on her shoulders.

Nothing like Bucky at all.

~*~

The Howling Commandos had joined another troop, temporarily. Their campaigns had crossed paths on a low lying region of Austria and Captain America had decided they needed to regroup and review the data SSR had on this laboratory before they headed back up into the mountains.

They would share the camp for about three days. A good “getting to know each other” as Cap might put it, before either of them left for their next assault.

It took less than one day for Bucky to hear the rumor.

“Be careful around that one, he can be a little too friendly.”

Bucky craned his neck to see who they were talking about. The thick-necked, crew-cut sergeant sitting next to him made a little gesture. “The private by the fire barrel, solid build. You wouldn’t think.”

Wouldn’t think that he’d been known to use the services of a male prostitute when the company had been in Paris last, apparently. Wouldn’t think that a man who looked like a /man/ would have that kind of preference. Well, it wasn’t the worse Bucky had heard.

“That right?” Bucky said, keeping his voice as disinterested as possible.

“Yeah, a flipping fairy, that one. Figured you boys, you Commandos, aughta know.”

“Yeah, thanks for the head’s up.”

If ever Bucky forgot again, slipped away from reality long enough to delude himself that he and Steve might be able to build this... _other thing_ he dreamed of, then the world managed to slam hard against his body and knock him back into the truth.

He felt badly for the private. He would likely never bond with his troop and would remain, forever, an outsider. Bucky, at least, knew where he belonged.

“Well, us Commandos have a meeting.” Bucky stood up from the mess tent table and turned to leave, but the sergeant stood alongside him.

“Oh good, I should let your captain know, too.”

Bucky stared at him and felt his ire rise. “About the private? What, is this your mission? To warn everybody?”

The sergeant gave Bucky a rather puzzled look. “Well, yeah.” If the sergeant noticed Bucky’s annoyance, he didn’t let on. He turned and marched out the mess tent, determination in his stride.

Bucky sighed and shook his head and followed after the man.

~*~

Steve rarely pulled rank and he didn’t like the idea that he wasn’t as accessible as any one of the Commandos. Therefor anyone who wanted to speak with him could.

But he also had a commanding presence, whether he tried to have one or not. And he didn’t seem to appreciate the sergeant’s warning.

Steve towered over the man and leaned forward, his brow furrowed. Bucky stepped back, folded his arms over his chest and grinned.

“What exactly are you trying to tell me?”

“Uh...” The sergeant’s cheeks took on a pasty-white color.

“Is he a good fighter?” Steve asked.

The sergeant blinked, surprised. “Uh, yeah.”

“Then that’s all I care about,” Steve said, then turned his back. That conversation was over before it even began and for the disoriented gaze that passed over the sergeant’s face as he left the Commandos’ tent, one might have thought he’d been socked in the jaw.

Steve never did like bullies. Not of any sort. Not for any reason. 

Still smiling, Bucky returned to Steve’s side to discuss the latest from SSR.

~*~

They were in limbo. The intel hadn’t matched what they found on the mountain and Colonel Phillips questioned the accuracy of the broken code. The Commandos were left waiting to hear back from SSR. But, honestly, all seven of them appreciated the brief reprieve. Their last string of assaults had occurred so close together there had barely been a single day which didn’t include planning or travel.

Tomorrow, at least, they could simply rest.

Bucky and Steve sacked into their tent as they always did and chatted about their plans: sparring, maybe putting together a game of ball, before Steve lowered the wick on the oil lamp and turned his back to Bucky. Bucky did the same.

Only, Steve wasn’t silent for long.

“Bucky?”

It surprised Bucky how much like Steve—Brooklyn Steve—the Captain could still sound like. Bucky could always take comfort in the ways Steve, _his_ Steve, had never changed.

“Yeah?”

“That sergeant was trying to tell me something about one of his men.”

Bucky hesitated, but then answered, “I heard.”

“Was he trying to say that he...that private and other men...” Steve’s voice trailed off. Bucky realized Steve didn’t have a word for what he was trying to say.

Bucky grinned. “Fondue?”

Steve’s sigh was loud and full of his exasperation. “I wish Stark had never told you that. I’ll never live that down.”

Bucky chuckled, but then sobered. Steve was trying to have a serious conversation, one that danced too close to what Bucky always avoided himself.

“Yeah, Steve, they fondue.”

“Really?” Bucky heard Steve turn over in his sleeping back, the rustle of cotton and nylon.

“You’ve never heard of it before?” Bucky said as he turned over to face Steve.

“No. Have you?”

There wasn’t much light coming into the tent, but from the narrow cracks in the flaps, Bucky could see Steve’s face as defined by shadow. He remembered this. From childhood years of sleeping at each other’s homes, staying up too late, talking in the darkness, he knew Steve’s face as well by dark as by light.

But Bucky didn’t want to answer that question. Had he heard of men loving other men? Did he mean other than how much Bucky loved Steve?

Bucky sighed, then said, “You remember Mister Franklin who lived in that 5 story walk up near DeKalb? He was.”

Bucky could see Steve’s brow furrow. “He was?”

“Yeah.”

Then Steve relaxed and gazed off, as if lost in a memory. “He was always nice to me.”

“Sure, me, too. Though he was always alone.”

Steve shook his head. “The way that sarge was talking...he wanted me to be upset. Do you think it’s wrong?”

Again Bucky sighed, uncertain and uncomfortable. He supposed that answer depended on who they asked. Bucky never felt his feelings were wrong. They scared him, they worried him sometimes for how intensely he felt them, but he never doubted their _rightness_.

He also knew that opinion was an exception to the rule.

“Father Harridan would say it’s wrong.”

“Father Harridan made me uncomfortable.” Steve’s response was quick. Of course, Bucky remembered the creepy priest as well and never liked the way he hovered over the young girls in the parish. But no one else but them ever seemed to notice that.

“Yeah, me too.”

Steve didn’t speak for a time and Bucky couldn’t tell if he’d fallen asleep. From the angle of the light, his eyes were doused in darkness and could have easily been open or closed.

But then, softly, he spoke again. “I meant what I said to the sarge. If he’s a good fighter, I don’t think it should matter.”

For as much as Steve might be clueless to this version of the world, he could come to terms with it very quickly. But, then, Bucky was never disappointed by Steve’s moral compass. People were good or people were bad, but they had to do truly hateful things to be labeled bad and loving someone didn’t qualify.

Bucky smiled. “That’s fine with me.”

“Yeah, good. Good night, Bucky.” But Steve didn’t turn back over. He brought his hand to tuck under his cheek and, the best Bucky could figure, fell quickly asleep.

Whispering, Bucky said, “G’night, Steve,” and let himself watch his best friend drift away from consciousness. He looked as he had when they were just kids: Beautiful.

~*~

It rarely happened that Bucky woke before Steve. But when he had a dream like the one that still crowded his mind with images of Steve lying in the back of a Cadillac, his lips red and full from kissing, his legs tangled with Bucky’s as they rubbed themselves to completion, well, it was probably self-preservation that made Bucky wake first.

Bucky tried not to pant too loudly, tried not to wake Steve, but the wood in his pants kept him from thinking of much more than his own needs just then. And he needed to get out of there.

Dawn had barely touched the camp. No one was moving about; the fire barrel only smoldered a bit. Bucky hurried to the latrine the other troop had built upon arriving to this place. He’d take care of his needs, then take a long walk. He needed to clear his head anyway.

But before he could escape into the privacy of the makeshift toilet, he heard someone whistle. Bucky stopped and turned; he was surprised how close the man had gotten to him.

It was that private. The fairy.

He smiled. He had dirty-blond hair and a pretty face on a lean, but solid body. He looked up at Bucky, then pointedly looked down and said, “I could help you with that.”

He didn’t have to say it, but Bucky wouldn’t be the first and he wouldn’t be the last. While the troop may deride him for his role, it occurred then to Bucky that this private _had_ found his place in the world.

And for the moment, it was a place Bucky was willing to visit.

~*~

“What’s your name?”

The private chuckled as he took Bucky by the shoulders and pressed him back until he thudded against a tree. “That’s a first.”

“No, really.” Bucky touched the private’s cheek before he could drop to his knees. Bucky saw a touch of terror in his eyes: a familiar look. “It’s okay,” Bucky said.

The private’s face turned from wary to resigned. “Gene,” he said.

Bucky smiled. “Nice to meet you, Gene, I’m—“

“The infamous Bucky Barnes.” Gene cut him off, then pressed a finger against Bucky’s lips. “We don’t need to talk, it’s all right. Let me take care of this for you.” Gene sidled up close and brushed his hand over the front of Bucky’s trousers. Bucky thought he might leap out of his skin, or come already.

Bucky’s wood had flagged a little, likely in fear of what they were about to do in the woods, not twenty feet from camp. But the moment Gene touched him, then fell to his knees and roughly pulled apart Bucky’s belt and then his pants, Bucky had returned to the state he’d woken in.

He also returned to his dream. What if before they could finish, Steve said, “Stop, wait,” and pressed his hand against Bucky’s chest. What if he gently pushed Bucky back against the seat cushions and shifted to kneel on the car floor, positioned between Bucky’s spread knees.

It wasn’t lost on Bucky that while the fantasies were always set in Brooklyn, that it was new Steve who succumbed to Bucky’s advances. _His_ Steve, the little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight, always received the first kiss. But it was Steve, in his Captain America uniform, who leaned forward and took Bucky’s cock between his kiss-swollen lips.

Bucky gasped. Gene had a talented mouth.

Bucky stood bare-ass against the tree as Gene drew hard and soft on his dick, using his tongue in ways that Bucky had never even imagined. He closed his eyes and pictured Steve: pure Steve who didn’t have a word in his innocent mind to even explain this; virginal Steve who hadn’t even been with a girl yet. But Bucky couldn’t help imagining him doing this: this wonderful, dirty thing, on his knees, curling his fingers into the soft flesh of Bucky’s buttocks and moaning softly as he made Bucky erupt in his mouth.

Which Bucky did.

For a first blow-job, Bucky had picked the right guy. Gene pulled a kerchief from his back pocket, cleaned Bucky up and even helped him with his pants.

He also turned quickly away without even a goodbye.

Bucky grabbed his hand. “Wait.” Then he led Gene back to his side and pulled him close; Bucky tilted his head.

Gene jerked his head back, a wry grin on his face. “You want to kiss me?”

Was that an odd thing? “Well...Yeah,” Bucky said, surprised by the question.

Gene chuckled again and smiled, broad and real. “I like you Bucky Barnes.”

They kissed slow and deep. Bucky had kissed many girls back in Brooklyn and a few let him go further than that. But he’d always been the instigator; he’d always tried to urge for more (and often was rebuffed). But not this time. Gene had control. He opened his mouth and pressed hard into the kiss, again using his tongue in a way Bucky had only heard about. 

If Bucky hadn’t just expended himself, that kiss would have raised his flag again.

They returned to camp separately, but Bucky couldn’t bring himself to ignore Gene. It seemed wrong. He found him a little while later by the newly lit fire barrel and said, “Good morning.”

Gene laughed and then said the same. But then he added, softly, though no one was nearby, “I wouldn’t mind, if we did that again.”

Bucky knew their orders from SSR would be coming soon. And, besides, though he’d enjoyed himself, he couldn’t help the pang of sadness for continually living in his dreams. “Yeah,” he said, “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” Though he knew he wouldn’t risk it again here, not in such close quarters. Not with Steve just across the compound.

Gene must have known, too. “Who’s your guy?” he asked.

It wasn’t a question Bucky expected or was sure how to answer. “Uh...” He stared into the flames and fumbled through his mind for a plausible answer.

“Is it…?” 

Bucky looked up to see Gene tip his head towards Bucky’s tent, the one everyone knew he shared with Steve.

“He’s back home.” The lie came out so smoothly, it surprised Bucky, in the wake his panic a moment ago. But it also rang true considering how he regarded Steve: as before, in Brooklyn, and after.

But at least Gene seemed to believe his answer, or at least he accepted it. He nodded. “I hope he knows how lucky he is.”

Bucky thought about that. The way Steve turned to him, talked to him, sought him out at every turn. Their history, their unquestioned friendship. Bucky smiled. “In his way, he might.”

Gene stayed by the fire barrel and Bucky casually headed back to his tent, smiling, sated, wondering if he’d discovered a new world. He’d mostly turned down Gene’s offer, but it did have him considering his options. He couldn’t have Steve, but did he have to be celibate? Did he only have to live in his fantasies?

He was nearly to the tent flap before he realized Steve had come so close; he overtook Bucky before he could slip inside. Steve stopped him, leaned close and harshly, as if he were out of breath, whispered into Bucky’s ear. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You and...that private.”

Bucky paused for a moment. He’d had no inclination that someone had seen them or heard them, but then again, he often forgot about Steve’s serum-heightened senses. Did he lie? Did he play it off as a friendly walk and conversation? Steve had seemed fine with the private yesterday, but he did not seem fine at this moment. Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know wha--”

Steve cut him off. “I heard what he said. Did you and he...” Again, Steve did not have the words.

For the first time, Steve’s anger annoyed Bucky. Steve had his fantasy of civilian marriage with Peggy Carter, Bucky couldn’t have his own dreams?

Bucky’s grin lacked any humor when he said, “Did we fondue?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he grabbed Bucky by the upper arm. “Dammit, Bucky!”

But it wasn’t a fierce grip and Bucky easily shrugged him off with a laugh. “This may surprise you, _Captain America_ , but it’s not actually your business.”

“I’m asking you if you spent time with him.”

“I thought you said it didn’t matter?”

“I...” He had said that and he knew he had, but could he explain his own anger? Could Bucky? 

Only one mocking thought came to mind and Bucky was pissed off enough to say it: “Are you jealous?”

Steve’s expression twisted. He looked shocked and confused and he took a step back from Bucky. Bucky didn’t take any chances. He turned on his heel and marched away.

He needed to be away from Steve. Again. Though, this time, for a completely different reason.

~*~

Bucky didn’t see Steve all afternoon, but he had been avoiding where The Commandos tended to linger. He needed to clear his head, to let go of his bitterness that Steve didn’t return his feelings. To make peace with his fantasies. 

He didn’t do a very good job.

When the sun hung lower in the sky, Bucky casually asked one of the other troop’s sergeants if he’d seen the captain recently. That’s how he learned they’d finally heard back from headquarters. Nobody probably could find him.

Bucky raced towards the Commando’s tent. He burst in to find them all circled around the CB; everyone turned and he received a mixed bag of looks, from bemusement to annoyance. But it was Steve’s unwavering, unreadable stare that Bucky felt like shot to his chest. Was he still that upset?

“Late for the party, huh?” Bucky said. No one spoke, then Steve turned back to the CB.

“Go on, Coronel, we’re all here.”

Through the crackling, distant voice of Coronel Phillips, they learned that SSR had a new code and they were close breaking it; the Commando would have new orders within the hour.

Time to head back up into the mountain.

Steve addressed the group, giving them each orders for packing up camp and prepping for the climb. Then he turned towards Bucky.

“We need to talk.” 

“Not necessarily,” Bucky mumbled, but he followed Steve anyway as he marched out of the tent and across the camp.

One of the perks of being a Howling Commando was that if you had linked with another troop, their privates and corporals did your work. Bucky had always liked that. But, at that moment, when they arrived at their tent site for a private talk, they found it half pulled down and half packed. So much for that.

Steve jerked his head further down the hill, away from the camp. The opposite direction from where Gene had taken Bucky.

A fair distance away from the unmarked border of the compound, Steve stopped. He still seemed on edge and paced a little before he said, “I have one question.”

Bucky folded his arms over his chest. “Fine.”

“Back before you shipped out. That girl you took to the fair—“

“Maggie.”

“Yes. You didn’t sleep with her, did you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Bucky answered anyway. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why?”

Why? Bucky swallowed hard. He supposed it would be absurd to lie now. He’d already basically confessed to fraternizing with a known fairy. He’d already accused Steve of having unusual feelings for him. What did he have left to hide?

Bucky sighed. It was the secret he’d been holding back for years. “Because she got tired of hearing me talk about _you_.”

Steve didn’t move. He stared at Bucky with this unreadable face that Bucky didn’t recognize and didn’t like because he could _always_ read Steve’s expressions. The longer neither of them spoke, the more uncomfortable Bucky felt.

He uncrossed his arms and put his hands up, like a truce. “Listen, this isn’t the time or the place. The commandos are waiting on us and—“

Steve cut him off again. His voice was soft and familiar, like when they spoke in their tent. Like he was Brooklyn Steve again. 

“Before, when you asked me if I was jealous. What if I said yes?”

Bucky’s gaze widened. Did he hear that right? “Are you saying yes?”

Steve made a half shrug; he looked confused and uncertain, he glanced away from Bucky. “I didn’t think twice about that private before. He could fight, that’s all that mattered to me. But now, knowing that you and he...it’s like I _hate_ him.”

Then Steve looked up, right into Bucky’s gaze and he seemed so surprised by his own words: “I’m angry that he touched you. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. If it wasn’t so completely different from his dreams, he might have thought he was in one of them. But it never played like this. Never before had he imagined that Steve might actually confess feelings to him.

A call came from across the camp. “Captain! Barnes!”

Steve shook his head; he still seemed confused. “We’d better go.”

No, Bucky couldn’t lose this! This was the most monumental moment he’d had since realizing his own feelings for Steve. Steve turned, but Bucky called out: “Wait, Steve! What are you saying?”

Steve turned to face him again. “I don’t know. We’ll have to save it for after this mission. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Something desperate inside Bucky broke. Everyone was moving away from them, had their backs turned. This would be the only private moment they’d have again for a while. Bucky took two long steps, reached forward and grabbed Steve by the collar. He drew him until they were face to face.

Steve looked shocked and maybe a little scared. Did he even realize what Bucky intended to do? It wasn’t a hard kiss, even for all the passion and intensity and excitement Bucky felt just then. It was the soft kiss of his dreams, a young boy in Brooklyn sighing against his best friend’s lips and pressing a kiss to his mouth. But it was Bucky who was surprised when Steve leaned into the kiss and slightly opened his mouth against Bucky’s. Bucky’s heart had never pounded so hard in his life.

Distant shouts broke them apart. Breathless, they stared at each other and after a moment, Steve smiled.

But then it was Dum Dum yelling for them and for that, Steve looked away.

Dum Dum shouted: “That was headquarters, they have a line on Zola. If we move fast, we could meet his train.”

Steve swallowed hard and nodded, then looked back, directly into Bucky’s gaze. “On our way.” Then he turned and hurried back up the hill. Bucky took off after him.

They had a train to catch.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 3 of a 10 part series of fics carrying from CA:FA to beyond CA:WS. This is not the end. It's just the end of this moment in Steve and Bucky's timeline.


End file.
